It’s a Festivus Miracle! This makes two straight days with a post. Now will see how long that last. I’m a very busy person you know. Some of us have to go to work and all…oh wait. Never mind. Not only is a second straight day with a post but it is the return of TMI Thursday. I mean you know it’s been like 2 whole weeks or so since I’ve written one.

(Shut up! But you know go read her stuff cus she is a lot funnier than me.)
(You didn’t need to agree so easily with that last statement.)

AnyLosingAllCredibility this happened a few weeks back. It turns out that my wife is one talented actress and my sister (Lisa) is one crazy lady. Now for the record I knew both of these things already. They just confirmed the thoughts. The wife was in the middle of her run as Chorus member, Monica Lewinsky and Eleanor Roosevelt in Hillary: A Modern Greek Tragedy with a (somewhat) Happy Ending. Now my crazy sister decided she’d fly up (from FLA) and enjoy our wintry weather. She flew up for the last weekend of shows to see one.

I know crazy.

This is all of course set up—set up that technically happened after the actual tmi event. I know we’re like messing with the space time continuum here. We be getting our freaky science fiction swagger on. That’s how we roll here.

AnyStarTrek I suppose I should stop stalling and get on with the post. It is short and sweet. Okay it’s not actually that sweet. Like the good husband I am I was making sure the apartment was cleaned and presentable. The wifey was at work and my sister was arriving the next day. I cleaned and cleaned like I was Cinderella. The wifey as she likes to do made me a list of things to do. I of course followed the list to a tee.
Then out of the kindness of my heart (and despite it not being on the list) I decided to clean the bathroom too. Husband points! So I cleaned away. I cleaned the sink. I swept. I cleaned the mirror. I turned my attention to the toilet. I cleaned it until it was spotless. We could eat off of it…

Well you could—not me—no I’m not as kinky as all of you.

As I was about to leave I noticed there was actual still a spot inside the bowl. So I went down to one knee to vanquish the evil stain. Except I did it too hard and this caused a tidal wave. Toilet water (albeit clean) and toilet bowl cleaner flew up and went in my nose. A blast of cold toilet water smacked me right in the face and shirt.

My initial reaction was to blow it out of my nose. This ended with a bunch of yellowish brown boogies landing on the toilet.

Today is Thursday and you know what that means. Well yes it does mean Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia returns. That was a mean thing of you to point out. I mean I can’t compete with Sunny. Why even bother?

It also means it’s time for another TMI Thursday. I know I know you can hardly contain your excitement. It’s been a while (not really) and technically I should begin some of the chronicling the Key West roadie.

But it is our first Thursday back and well when I told Pelvic Joann and the wifey the story they were thoroughly grossed out.

So I’m back. I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack in the saddle again.

So as I was thinking about what joke to make about Steven Tyler (drugs and alcohol being too easy) something hit me. This freaked me out because there’s nobody else here.

Heyoooooooooo!

I was going to go with how he resembles a (wide mouth) vase when he sings and doll up some vase with hair and scarves but that seemed like too much work.

Lazy ftw!

As I looked at pictures of Mr. Tyler there was a joke that wanted to come out but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Because of the restraining order it has out on me. Heyoooooooooooo!
(What?)

He looked awful familiar to me—but who? And then I figured it out:

Am I right? He is so creepy.

Anybeautyandthebeastjokes I should probably move on. This TMI Thursday took places on the Three Shillelagh’s Hunt for the Key Master Tour (2010)

(Uhm what other year would it be?)

Sorry I digressed yet again. (I do that a lot.)

I’m writing this as we make our way into the rainy Florida night (10:33pm) on the final leg of the trip (to Key West). As we do we are listening to Katy Perry so yeah there might be some more digressing.

(Roar)

(See.)

We decided it was best to stop at a gas station and fill up the tank right before truly hitting the way to Key West. The rain was slowly coming down as we headed into the store to stock up on some drinks and what not. We bought a couple big pineapple (there were no big peach like in GA) to mix with the pinnacle whip vodka.

As Pelvy and I paid for our stuff the wife grabbed the key to the bathroom (it was outside) and took care of the diet Pepsi max she drank on the drive. I figured after I paid I’d head on over to the crapper and drain the lizard (make a sissy—take that wife!) My turn finally came and as I waited for it to be approved I felt the annoying (and often terrible) rumblings.

This did not bode well.

I mean the stomach rumblings and grumblings at a crappy looking Florida gas station late at night. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to be up for discussion. It wasn’t urgent or anything but I didn’t want to start a 3 or so hour drive with the need to film The Hunt for the Brown October.

I paid grabbed the grubby looking keys and handed off my purchases to the wifey. I made my way to the bathroom and switched the lights on. There was trash (empty candy wrappers and soda cans) on the floor. The rain from outside (or at least what I hope was mostly rain) had tracked in and made the floor very slippery.

One step in and I almost fell.

Woah.

2nd step inside as the door closes and yet another slip. This time I almost fell. I mean one foot came way up and I had to grab onto the sink to stop from falling. This is the time that my head went down near (not too near thankfully) to the toilet. Of course I was not too happy with what I saw. In the watery grave was a hill of poop and brown tinted toilet paper. It was high.

Some dick head didn’t flush this I thought to myself. Well just flush it first.

Oh.

There wasn’t even a handle. Or any other discernable way to flush either. Whatever. I can probably hold it. Maybe just take care of the pee part.

I peed.
I thought maybe I’d save someone else by destroying the fortress of poo and tp. The water in the bowl muddied a bit but otherwise the hill did not change. Washed my hands grabbed the key and made my way out.

Slip.

And as I caught myself for the 3rd time there was another slip. This one of the insides variety and it became apparent that it’d be best to take care of the filming of the sequel to the Hunt for the Red October right then and there.

Someone call Alec Baldwin!

I looked back in to the toilet. I sighed and decided that sitting down (the seat amazingly looked pretty clean) was not really an option. The hill of poop looked dangerously close to where the butt would rest. So I hovered and let go.

And let go some more.

And a little bit more.

Then I wiped and looked down.

If it was a math equation it would look like this: pre poo + jimi poo = poo hill over the brim.

Yes kiddies that picture isn’t exaggerating all that much. The poop reached a bit over the top of the bowl. I washed my hands, returned the keys and jumped in the car.

Of course I told them right away. The Katy Perry was momentarily replaced by a chorus of disgust by the ladies. I knew I had a tmi post for when I returned.

I once again pull from the pool (that may soon dwindle) that is known as my former place of employment. It appears I worked at a circus or at least with a bunch of side show freaks. There was a long list of characters. We’ve documented the fact that this place hired quite a bit of the handicapped (of all sorts). I applaud this. I do. I got a long with almost all of them. There really was only one exception. I won’t talk about her, but she was a jerk, and was mean to those not all there mentally.

Anycoworker there was one in particular who was not all there mentally. This post is about her, or rather that something that occurred to me because of her. Her name will be (like any time I post about someone) ever changing. For right now she is Diane. She could get a tad annoying but you know honestly the “intelligent” people there could get way more annoying. Her problem is she liked to ask a lot of questions. That isn’t quite true—she asked the same questions over and over.

It was a constant droning. Which may have been somewhat bearable but she said “huh” or “whaa” after almost every sentence you said no matter if she heard you or not. All too often a conversation would go like this:

Her: How are you doing?
Me: I’m good…how are you?
Her: Huh?
Me: Just fine Meredith. You?
Her: Whaat?
I refuse to respond and continue to go about my business.
Her: Huh? What did you say?

Anysamequestions we’ll fast forward to the end of the line work wise. It seemed like every single day of my last 2 weeks I found myself taking my break at the same time as her. Now I don’t really want to come off too mean here. I liked her. It always pissed me off when people there treated her poorly. They often did and more than a few times I had to tell people off (or at least tell them how I disagreed with what they were doing)

I mean I didn’t have a problem with her but went it came to my break it was a different story. On break I did one of these two things.
1. Read
2. Listen to my mp3 player while working on some writing.

Both activities become very hard to do when she is up there at the same time as me. It doesn’t matter where I sit in the break room she’ll choose the seat right next to me. A couple times I moved and then about two minutes later she moved to where I was sitting. I mean I know I am your ambassador of awesome, your secretary of being too sweet, and your prime minister of pimpin (what?) You get the point. Which if that’s true that makes you gentle reader a weirdo.

But I love you anyway. The problem with her always wanting to sit next to me is she liked to talk.
And talk.
And talk
And then you guessed it talk a whole lot more.

It was similar to the above conversation but lunch was different. It would start like:

Her: I bought a pop.
Me: good.
Her: Huh?
Then she’d try to open it (and every attempt always appeared to be half hearted)
Her: Nuuuuh. Nuuuuh. Nuuuuuuh. I can’t open it.
Silence.
Her: Nuuuuuuh. Nuuuuuuuh nuuuuuuuh. I can’t get it…can you open it…
Open it for her.
Her (to someone else even though nobody else is up there): He is a nice guy. That was nice. Thank you. Thank you. He is such a nice guy. You are such a nice guy.
Me: Thank you Debbie.
Her: Huhh?
I go back to reading.

Now I’m reading and she is next to me and gabbing away about the pop she has and how she wants to eat her candy bar. I sort of to the half turn into my book and turkey sammich and so she gets a bit louder. Mary is all blah blah blah and some more blah for added emphasis. She keeps talking but then a glorious event happen she stopped. There was silence. Glorious and wonderful silence that I imagine you’d have in heaven. I read on.

(Cough cough choke cough squiish slurpt slhiptslapt.)

The other constant of the break room visit with Vivian is how she goes about eating. This also means her inevitable semi choking. She eats similar to someone who is in prison. That is she shovels it in as quickly as possible. So fast that she forgets to chew or doesn’t chew fast enough. So you get loud chews that sound like two really oiled up or wet fatties are having some hot n heavy sexy.

Slap
Slap
Splat
Slurp
Slip-slapht
Gurgle
Choke
Cough
Her: I almost choked.
Me: Yeah be careful.
Her: Huh?
Me: Eat slower.
Her: You don’t want me to choke.
Me: (Oh god I do I really do) Nope.
Her: What did you say?
Silence.
Her: If I did what would happen?

I will just stop here and get on with the rest of it. Now as all of this is happening she is eating. We are on our break after all. So she is eating a big ole salad. She’s covered her salad in about 4 packets of ranch dressing. Covered of course meaning there is a Mount Rushmore of Ranch dressing sitting in the middle of her greens. There is also a good portion of it on her fingers. It appears to cover them no matter how much she slurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpz sllllllllllllllucks at them.

Anydressing she begins to talk to me again. This time her mouth is full of lettuce and gobs of dressing. You can hear the fat oily people sex chews as she talks and this somehow makes the lisp she generally has worse. It is now a wet slippery worse. Like slapping a fresh outta the water seal in the face with Ron Jeremy’s overly lubed up dong Yeah. I’m doing my best to pretend the only thing that matters is my book. I don’t hear the fat people sex or the Ron Jeremy wet dong slapping. I don’t.
Then a 3 bite chewed piece of lettuce flew across the table.

She grabs my arm (with her ranch fingers) and now I have ranch elbow. She pulls at me to get my attention because apparently what she has to say is really important. Then she says

“What would you do if I choked?”

The corners of her mouth were coated in dressing and when she spread them it dripped/stuck to them. There is this tiny piece of frightened lettuce (I hope it was lettuce) clinging to her bottom lip. She kept talking and well I stopped listening. I was mesmerized by the lettuce, by the corners of her mouth slick with gross. It was this hesitation that caused all the damage. As I suppose I didn’t answer her question of what I would do after calling 911 for her she decided to get louder. That is when said piece of lettuce and more globs of dressing and lettuce (she was still eating) flew off and landing on my fucking sandwich!

Man down.
Man down.
Oh the humanity. We need a medic!
Of course that glob was the end of Jennymeredithdebbie my sandwich. I went back to reading and tried make sure I didn’t choke her to death.